Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood ❯ Chapter 3

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

By: emeraldoni

PART III

Disclaimer: Naruto is owned by Masashi Kishimoto, not me.

Gaara crossed his arms tight over his near bare chest as he glared out into the sea of sweating bodies. Blinding lights flashed, souring the darkness in a slicing array of movement back and forth over the dance floor. A rainbow of prime colors flashed over shining heads, and Gaara felt his jaw clench as another drunk pounded on the lacquered wood in an attempt to intoxicate their self even further.

Hands twitching, fingers flexing, Gaara slowly turned his attention to the man interrupting his sulk that was more like anger. At least, he liked to think it was more like anger. Gaara did not sulk. Shooting a dagger of a glare, Gaara made it known that the annoyance of a man better get the hell away from him, but to no avail. He was way too sloshed to notice even a stampede of naked women, never mind a glare.

“One—” The man swayed a bit on his feet, before steadying himself against the counter, “One shot, man.”

Gaara growled, but obliged, hoping the idiot would die of liver failure, or alcohol poisoning. Whatever was quicker.

Leaning up against the wall, in a shaded corner, Gaara tried to make it seem as though he wasn't there. Maybe if he was unnoticed—because obviously a well-place glower wasn't working—then nobody would come looking for more drinks to further degrade their bodies. This place was practically crawling with morons that Gaara would never want to have anything to do with. Not that he would ever want to actually associate with anyone in the first place, but these were the people he was violently opposed to.

And he being violent was what got him into this mess in the first place. Damn Kankuro, blackmailing him to be bartender for a night at his stupid club. Gaara cursed his knowledge of the evil drink—which got him into more messes than he cared to admit, though he wasn't the one intoxicated, never would he get caught in a loss of awareness like that brought on by alcohol—if he never knew about bartending, he would have never been forced into this.

Of course, maybe the fact that he illegally owned firearms and some other odd assortments had something to do with; wrapped up with the fact that Kankuro had found his stash. It wouldn't really have been a big deal, in the usual circumstances, but the fact that he had finally been caught for a misdeed, and now had a probation officer and therapist…

Well, the consequences were not what he wanted to deal with at the moment.

Damn Kankuro. Damn Temari.

Scowl deepening, Gaara's tattooed eyes furrowed as another lush slapped their hand for more, searching for him, but unsuccessful. Gaara silently thanked his dark clothes; the baggy faded pants, and ripped, black shirt that barely covered his lean chest. Luckily for him, his hair was the not too bright of a color, like some people he could name, but wished not to contemplate on.

“Hey, Gaara! Where the hell are you?”

Growling, Gaara stepped from his shadow, sending a dark look at his brother, who returned it, though not as fierce, and not serious at all.

“Are you trying to put me out of business? These people need drinks. Get `em.”

Gaara snarled, his eyes bloodshot from stress, furthering their red venture in rage.

“Fuck you, Kankuro.”

Kankuro shrugged, his painted face indifferent yet sly. Kankuro realized he would pay hell for his attitude—and normally he would never act this way, especially with Gaara, who was a little unbalanced—but he couldn't help it. It was too good of a chance to pass up.

Gaara was about ready to commit another felony when a soft hand restrained him with an iron-clad grip on his shoulder. Straitening in a rigid stance, Gaara jerkily turned his head at the offender.

“Calm down, Gaara, don't let him get your goat.”

Relaxing just slightly, Gaara silently acknowledged his sister with a barely visible nod of the head. Kankuro just frowned.

“Go away, Temari.”

“Shut up, I own half of this establishment, and you can't order me around.”

Kankuro, though he prided himself living on the dangerous side (who couldn't with siblings like his?) he was smart enough to know when to back down.

“Whatever.” Slouching away, he shot them a petulant glare over his black-clad shoulder, then went to commiserate like a good owner with some dancers.

Temari watched him until he disappeared, then turning her shrewd eyes back at Gaara.

“So,” She said flatly, hands on hips that held up short skirt with intricate violet swirls over it, “are you holding up well in your knew apartment?”

Gaara shrugged, staring off into the crowd, not much for conversation. Temari's face darkened slightly, but she was used to her brother's antisocial tendencies, and just shrugged it off. Her head quirked to the side, giving any admirer a better look at her eccentric hair style.

“Well, I'll have to come check it out.” She didn't miss the flicker of his eyes. He obviously didn't want that. He had always been distant, “Or you could just come visit us.”

There was no response again, just a shrug of his shoulders. His face had lost its obvious display of anger, instead transforming back into its stony impassiveness. Temari sighed as she turned her attention back to the rumbling mass, waving to the overly loud beat raging from strategically placed speakers. There was no band booked for the night, so a DJ had come instead.

Temari turned her gaze back to Gaara, “Hey—” The words died on her lips as she noticed a very unusual change in expression. Somehow, his eyes had widened and narrowed in almost the same moment, as his focus was riveted on one precise motion in the crowd… or more aptly, traveling through the crowd. With amazing quickness, Gaara slid into the shadows once more, body tense as a flash of pink plagued the reflection of his pale green orbs.

Oooo000OOO000oooO

Every cuss word Sakura had ever known (and that was quite a few, considering her upbringing) flew through her head as she pushed through the crowd, attempting to get to the empty table she had glimpsed in the corner. She should have known this would happen, that she would be dragged to this place, then promptly ditched.

Yeah, Ino meant well, but she could stuff away her naturally flirty tendencies only so much, and being in a club was too much for senses. Not that Ino would ever actually seriously consider any of the men she met. She had Shikamaru, after all, but the girl was outgoing and instinct could not be quenched.

Sakura sighed, then pushed through another rowdy, completely sloshed, group of dancers, as her haven came into view. A small booth, set in inky darkness and a probable set of stained cushions, finally closed into fingers reach, and Sakura let out a relieved sigh as she felt the unrestrained bliss of pillowed leather underneath her rear.

Maybe it was nice to get out once in a while, but this place was a little too much for her, considering she hadn't been to a club in…what year was it?

No matter, the point was that Sakura knew this wasn't for her, despite that she had been dragged into it, literally. Pulling at her skirt, black and strait that reached her ankles, and then her shirt, which was kind of baggy, but still too slim for her tastes, Sakura let her eyes roam the area which seemed small but was, in reality, quite spacious.

Bobbing heads and glittering bodies jerked back and forth in a wild dance that Sakura couldn't help but blush at. The people here…well…modesty didn't seem to be such an issue with them.

Averting her eyes, Sakura watched as a blond woman behind the bar spoke to someone in the shadows. Squinting, Sakura thought she saw a head of red hair and darkened eyes, but discarded it as an illusion. Leaning back, Sakura tried to filter out the head-banging noise as she shut her eyes. As she breathed in and out calmly—taught to her by one of the classes she took in medical school, dealing with the psychological aspect of patients—Sakura found that she really needed something to drink.

Her throat was dry, and it felt as though the epithelial tissue would just peal off right there. Groaning at the thought of having to fight her way through the crowd, again (though it wasn't that much of a distance, compared to the first trek through pure, unadulterated frustration) Sakura hefted herself up, pushing her way through.

Reaching the bar, Sakura found the blond woman mixing some drinks for some other clubbers, and so she waited her turn, shifting from foot to boot-clad foot.

Emerald eyes darted from here to there, studying the glasses of pretty colors (which she would never drink anytime soon) her eyes finally alighted upon the figure in the corner. Here eyes widened as she recognized him.

“Gaara!” She shouted with an energetic wave, leaning over the counter to get a better look at him. He seemed to be scowling at her, but she couldn't really tell, considering the shadows wrapped around him, and so she ignored it.

“Gaara, Come here!”

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the blond woman looking at her with some curiosity, and not a little bit of apprehension. Maybe this was a friend of Gaara's? Or something more? Sakura made a note to ask him later, though she doubted he would answer.

In fact, he seemed to be avoiding her. Oh, he was walking over, but at such a slow pace that she could say even a slug was faster. Offering an excited grin, though she knew he probably felt the exact opposite, Sakura bounced slightly on the soles of her feet, tapping her fingers on the shiny, but slightly smudged, wood.

Stopping in front of the counter, in front of her, he crossed his corded arms, a scowl on his dark face. Sakura's eyes bulged slightly at the sight Ino would surely squeal at, but Sakura composed herself with a grin and the barest flickering of the eyes.

“What are you doing here? Do you work here?”

“No.”

Sakura sat down at a barstool, resting her feet on one of the metal rungs as she folded her hands under her chin in fists, “Did you come with a friend then?”

“No.”

“Oh, okay, uhmmmm.”

Dammit! I will not give up!

“So…”

Gaara glared, muscles flexing in annoyance, “What do you want?” He practically snapped.

Sakura, falling back on her telltale nervous laugh, answered, “I just wanted to say hi.”

“You said that. And more.”

Feeling a tinge of upset, Sakura cast her voice with sarcasm, “Well, soorrryyy. It must be so horrible to talk to me when you could be doing some thing much better.”

“Yes.”

Though the building was anything but silent, it seemed a sort of sound void had surrounded the two, tension building up inside like a stopped hose. Slowly, the harsh eyes Sakura had been holding slowly softened, a laugh bubbling up inside her throat.

“Hey, want to go somewhere?”

“No.”

“Great! I know this really good café just a block form here. Let's go!”

Gaara just turned away, abruptly freezing when her found icy eyes barely inches away from him.

“I think you should go.” Said Temari, her voice booking no argument.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Gaara's lip upturned in a mini snarl as he tried to walk away. An unforgiving hand grabbed his bicep though, and Temari manhandled him into facing her again.

“Go.” He voice was low enough for Sakura enough to be deaf too, but loud enough for him to hear the resolution in her voice, “I know about the guns too. Go. The therapist said you should get out. Here's your chance.”

Gaara was far from happy, but the threat imprisonment (by his siblings, no less) hung over his head, as well as the thought of a stupid shrink's lecture. Letting loose a growl, Gaara whirled around on Sakura, who's expression had fallen into doubt, and snarled out, “Fine. Let's go.”

“Ah! Okay.”

Meeting him at the end of the bar, she grabbed his hand while pulling him out of the crowd, as though he was unable to himself.

“This is just great!” She shouted over the music while threading her way through the crowd. Sakura noticed that they moved much more easily when she had Gaara with her, “I think you'll like this place!”

Gaara just scowled, a regular appearance that night, and kept his eyes locked on the bright pink blob.

Stupid…

Oooo000OOO000oooO

The brownish liquid swirled, mesmerizing, as the pale tendrils of cream slowly dissolved into the once dark tea. Sakura always loved doing that, especially when it was in that halfway state, when both were merging, but not yet dissolved. The fact that it distracted her from the awkward silence only deepened her fondness for the little quirk.

Sighing, Sakura looked up at Gaara, “That girl forced you to come, didn't she?”

Gaara shrugged, and untouched mug of black coffee in front of him.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

An expression of disgust slid across his face, “No, my sister.”

“Oh, really? You guys don't really look alike.”

“I know.”

Sakura smiled up at him, the table with crumbs a large distance in between them. Soft light danced merrily against whitewashed walls as the near dead café surrounded them with a silence that made one want to whisper. Only a few customers speckled the place, breaking the quiet only enough to make a person not completely uncomfortable.

They sat next to a window, their reflections staring back at them from the darkness outside. It was pretty late to be out at a café, almost ten actually.

“I never had any sisters. I was the only girl in the family.” Sakura said, reminiscing just a little, then shaking it off, “I guess I'm kind of a guy myself. Kind of.”

A nonexistent brow quirked up, as Gaara started down at her. Was it just her, or did she sense a bit of amusement in his solemn eyes? Keeping with that line of conversation, Sakura kept talking.

“Really, in high school some even mistook me for a guy. They thought I was punk, because of my hair.” Yes, there was definitely a spark in that rock-like face.

“This one time a girl asked me out. It wasn't until I told her my name that she figured it out, you know, that I was a female. I think it was the baggy clothes and the really short hair.”

Letting out a relieved breath, Sakura took a slow sip from her tea, happy that it had cooled to a tolerable temperature. Grabbing some of the fake sugar packet from the middle of the table, Sakura ripped it open, promptly dumping them on the table.

Gaara couldn't resist, “What are you doing?” It was a dark question, almost childlike, with a certain gothic pout, but it was something. Sakura grinned.

“I really like making swirls with it. The table's dirty already anyway, so it doesn't hurt.”

Gaara studied her as she hunched over her mess of sugary swirls and circles, then an added smiley face for good measure. This girl was odd, different, and he wasn't sure he liked it. Most people shunned him, turning their backs on him at his style or expression, and a lot of them from the tattoos around his eyes. Yet here was this woman, who knew him only from a dastardly first expression, and she still pursued friendship. With him.

With him.

It made him suspicious, paranoid even. Here was this woman, a neighbor, who kept pestering him and acting friendly.

“What…” He whispered out as she glanced up at his slicing of the companionable silence, at least it was companionable in her opinion.

Gaara's voice grew only harsher though, “What do you want?” He hissed, his brow furrowed as his eyes lashed out with an unprovoked anger.

“What?” Asked Sakura, confused from the sudden outburst, “What do you mean?”

“Why do you follow me around?” His voice was soft yet stony, obviously stating his upset at the situation, though what the situation was Sakura was left completely in the dark about.

“Why do you speak to me?”

“W-well,” Sakura stuttered, “because…”

“Why?” He interrupted, “Do you insist upon smiling at me?”

Sakura opened her mouth to try to get a word in, but was cut off before she even started.

“Why? Why do you insist upon acting like a friend?”

Sakura was shocked, to say the least. Her mouth hung open, eyes wide as she struggled to find an answer. She couldn't very well say that she was challenging herself, trying to find a friend, trying to become more social. But apparently Gaara wasn't looking for an answer, because he stood up in a concise, but violent motion, the screech of wood on tile piercing through the murmuring silence.

Throwing down some cash, the red-head strode out of the café in a rush, face fierce as anger clouded about him in a blatant display of anxiety.

Eyes glued to the swinging door, Sakura slowly closed her mouth. Staring down at the table, she saw that the money was more than enough to cover the bill.

What a day.

Oooo000OOO000oooO

A/N: Sorry, I know it's a bit late, but I had to work all weekend (up at 5 AM! `Till 3 PM!) and then there was homework. A speech for history, A&P studying, pre-calc. HW…All that good stuff.

I wanted to thank everybody though. Going through are hard time is, well, rough, but with people supporting you it makes it infinitely easier. Your concern was amazing, and I felt much better. So, Thank You.

Unfortunately, I may not be able to update for about a fortnight, my A&P midterm is coming up, and I seriously need to study. I'll try though. But there is a chance I won't finish it. Again, I'm sorry.

Also, in the future, I will try to reply to your reviews, but I don't know how well I will do. I will make an attempt though, especially with how comforting you've all been, and few specific people (you know who you are) who've raised my spirits.

I hope you enjoyed this…

Until next time,

emeraldoni